A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(43)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Danny was grinning.

Boston was rolling his eyes.

Amanda was affecting boredom, but her eyes gleamed with interest.

“So the widow died broke and brokenhearted, ashamed that she had bedded down with the devil’s helpmate, and they say if you look in that mirror, her face stares back at you, beseeching you to understand. And she cries soundless tears, eyes locked on yours . . .”

The Cuttersville fire engine let out a blast of its horn as it rolled by and they all jumped. Amanda gave a screech before clamping her hand over her mouth.

“Jesus! What the hell is that?” Whirling around, she adjusted her enormous bag on her shoulder. “Oh, shit, it’s just a fire truck. What are they making so much noise for?”

Shelby wanted to laugh. Amanda glared toward the fire engine, and just about every fireman perched at various spots around the truck almost fell off as they gaped at the full frontal view of her. Shelby suspected the ladder wasn’t the only thing rising as eyes plastered all over Amanda’s chest and that offensive T-shirt she was wearing. Walking behind the ladder truck, Howie actually gathered enough nerve to smile and wave at her.

The truck ground to a halt as the parade slowed down, and Howie slammed into the back of the truck, clipping his shoulder. Shelby didn’t think he even noticed, though, especially not since Amanda had deigned to wave back, retrieving her little American flag from her skirt and raising it in salute.

“There are a surprisingly large amount of attractive men in this town,” Amanda said thoughtfully, still eyeing Howie.

Howie? Shelby thought hair dye must have addled the girl’s brains. “Howie’s pretty cute,” she said to be polite, which earned her an evil glare from both Boston and Danny.

“Hey, look, those sweet little boys are throwing candy to me.” Amanda started casually grabbing at the candy the middle-school-aged Boy Scouts were flinging at her by the handful, their eyes as wide as Frisbees.

Amanda bent over and Shelby swore she heard a collective gasp from the boys. It was a day they’d probably remember all through puberty. Amanda stood back up with a dozen pieces of candy and dropped them into her voluminous bag.

Shelby was a little shocked to find out that Amanda actually ate.

“What is that thing?” Boston asked with a frown. “It says SAMSON PLASTICS on the side of it.”

“It’s the Samson float, can’t you tell?” Shelby thought this year’s was the best yet. “It’s made entirely out of two-liter bottles, the primary product manufactured in Cuttersville.”

Of course, Boston would know that and Amanda wouldn’t give a darn, but somehow she wanted to stress that Cuttersville wasn’t just any old run-of-the-mill hick town. They had spooks and plastic. Not every town could claim that.

“It’s very creative,” Boston said wryly. “Oh, and look, there’s a mock-up of a soft drink pouring into a giant bottle. Corporate dollars hard at work.”

“It’s called community involvement,” Shelby said. “It shows Samson cares about this town and the people who live here.” Unlike Fancy Pants there. She glared at Boston for good measure.

“You’re right,” he said, shocking her speechless. “I never thought of it that way.”

“This whole down-home parade business is kind of fun,” Amanda said with a smile and another triumphant wave of her flag, this time at the veterans’ group who all appeared to be saluting her.

Shelby figured she could have this much fun sorting her laundry into whites and darks. “The sun is getting to me. I’m heading home.”

Danny turned to her solicitously. “Maybe you should get some water. I’ll walk you home.”

Boston looked ready to wrest Danny’s hand from her arm, but he paused, watching Amanda, looking torn.

His first responsibility obviously was staying with his boss’s daughter, and the knowledge of that didn’t make Shelby feel any better.

Danny would always be there, true and comforting. Boston was a flash of passion, a hot forbidden desire, like a crack of lightning in the summer heat.

Boston watched her edge away from the street, but before she could fully escape, he leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“I’ll be there to pick you up tonight, Shelby, eight o’clock.” His fingers brushed back her hair, and she shivered as his warm breath danced across her cheek. “Pack your toothbrush and whatever else you’ll need to spend the night.”

Then he turned back to Amanda and the parade.

Just as casual as you please.

Damn, the man was sexy.

Chapter Thirteen

Boston pulled onto Turkey Trail and found Bob’s house right away. As he took in the picnickers in their shorts and T-shirts lounging around in white plastic chairs, he was extremely grateful that Amanda had declined his invitation to join him.

She’d had enough of Cuttersville for one morning and had gone back to the Gray House to take a nap, and probably buff the country air out of her pores. Considering Amanda was about as subtle as a raging bull in designer clothes, he couldn’t say he was sorry. He actually wanted to enjoy this picnic.

And he did. A beer and a plastic plate loaded with carbohydrates were shoved into his hand, and he found himself mingling with Samson employees and the Turkey Trail neighbors.

Kids ran around the yard shooting water pistols at each other, occasionally pausing to stuff potato chips in their mouths, but otherwise left unfettered.

Never once in his entire childhood had Boston run unfettered.

He found now that he was kind of enjoying being part of this casual group, sitting around, talking about nothing. He didn’t even mind when someone grabbed a camera and forced all the company employees to stand together for a group photo.

When his Samson acquaintances stood up to refill their plates, a woman took the empty seat next to him.

“I’m so glad to meet you, Boston.” She smiled at him with round cheeks flushed from the heat, her brown hair sitting like a cap around her face. “I’m Cheryl, Bob’s wife.”

“Oh, nice to meet you too.” Boston stuck out his hand. “Thank you for inviting me, I’m enjoying myself.”

“Well . . .” Cheryl looked around the yard with pride. “Bob and I have done this every year since we got married. It’s fun.”

She crossed her feet. “So are you here for long? Are you liking Cuttersville? It takes some getting used to when you rely on big-city conveniences.”

“A little.” A lot. But Boston sat under the hot sun, listening to the roar of the men laughing over the grill, the chatter of the women, the shrieks of the children playing in the crunchy browning grass, and he thought there were some really good things about Cuttersville.